


In The Early Hours

by Grimsy



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimsy/pseuds/Grimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds Droog comes across an oddly behaving Die during a late night break in at the Felt Manor</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Early Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I almost accidentally deleted this entire thing while proof reading (maybe that would have been for the best) but I didn't, so enjoy

He watched Die on the other side of the kitchen, and was almost impressed. Originally, he had been humouring himself with how oblivious the Felt member was to being followed around his own territory. But now Diamonds Droog was impressed. Here Die was, unexpectedly cornered and trapped in his own home, and all he could do was squint at Droog as if he didn’t even recognise the man.

“Good evening, or perhaps morning.” Droog greeted Die with superficial charm. He reached into his jacket and slipped out his deck of cards, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Die blinked back at him, and then he turned his back to Droog entirely. My, it was as if Die had finally fully developed a spine. Good for him. But now he’d made a mistake by trying it out on Droog.

Droog clicked his tongue. _Die, turning your back on a guest? Awful manners._ It was 4:05 am at the Felt manor. Perhaps not a conventional time to come knocking, but then Droog was not a conventional guest. Not here, at least.

 

Die lifted a glass out from a cabinet and looked over his shoulder at Droog again, his gaze hovering a little longer than before. It was this time that Droog realised there was something empty about it, something unfocused. This made Droog decide to take his time, and he took the ace from his deck into his hand.

Die went over to the sink and held the glass under the tap. He was clumsy and some of the water splashed onto the sleeve of his (green obviously) nightwear. Droog’s en masse of patience was beginning to see itself crumble. Enough of whatever Die thought this game was.

“Die.” Droog’s tone went sharp. His fingers began to flip the card over in his hand, and the card was replaced with his Ultra-Violence Cuestick.

Again, met with the same hazy stare, Die examined him.

“Persistent, aren’t you…” Die covered his mouth as he yawned out the words.

“I should be.”

“Bothering me…”

“Am I?”

Die rubbed his face and took a sip from his glass, “You…”

Droog prepared to respond with his cuestick to whatever tasteless remark Die was about to deliver.

“You birds… Just never quit.” Die sighed heavily.

Droog frowned. He found himself squinting at Die as the man had done to Droog moments before. _Did... Did Die just call him a bird?_

“I feed you, and I feed you but you just…” Die started to make small sounds imitating a bird, and Droog began to think he was losing his mind entirely.

There wasn’t really much he could say to Die in response, unless he planned on chirping back.

Die tipped the glass he was holding back and forth, some of the water spilling onto his (green, again) slippers. He barely seemed to register the mess he was making.

It was ridiculous, it was like he was in his own world entirely…

Droog’s frown deepened and he looked Die up and down. The awkward movements, the empty stares, the lunacy...

Was Die… Sleepwalking?

 

It was a preposterous situation for Droog to find himself in. He wasn’t sure how much time he’d lost just standing there and taking it in. Was this just a ruse to cover up Die’s carelessness in getting caught?

Droog was not familiar with the protocols of dealing with a sleepwalker. He wasn’t sure how to test it, he wasn’t sure how to wake someone up from it. Well, he had a few ideas. But was there a rush?

It was definitely a unique sight. Incoherent and swaying Die, talking to his imaginary birds. Spilling his drink all over himself. Walking over to- _Oh god._

Droog adjusted his grip on his cuestick to hold it in both hands, and quickly took a defensive stance.

Die plodded over and managed to stop himself before he bumped right into Droog. He suddenly straightened up and opened his mouth to speak.

“What are YOU doing here?”

It was very accusational, they were the words Diamonds Droog had originally expected to be greeted by.

“I’m dabbling in ornithology.” Droog muttered.

Die huffed and tried to nod, but his head just drooped down and stayed there. His body seemed to mimic his head and his hands went limp. Droog watched the remaining contents of Die’s glass pour out onto the floor. Surprisingly though, Die hadn’t dropped the glass.

 Droog tightened his hold on his weapon, “You have a lot of dreams, Die?”

But Die’s attention was no longer with him. Instead it was with the empty glass in his hand, mumbling whispers into it. Droog began to move towards Die, taking slow steps.

He stopped next to him, peering down at the same sad glass. Did Die have any idea what was going on? For all he knew, Die might have thought they were standing in a field. A very modernised field, with various kitchen appliances scattered about. Oh, and birds.

He considered how calm Die was standing next to him, as if this was just another one of the many obscure Droog dreams Die might have. How curious.

And then he thought about how useless, how helpless Die was in this moment. How his reactions were slowed, and his awareness dimmed. So he took advantage of it.

Droog raised his cuestick up, and brought it down.

 

By some strange miracle or fate, Die moved. But the cuestick was not denied a target. The weapon struck Die’s hand, shattering the glass in it.

Die shrieked. He toppled backwards onto the floor, clutching his hand with the other. He looked up at Droog, down at his hand, then back up at Droog.

“W-What are YOU doing here?”

 Déjà vu.

Droog swung his leg out and Die had to roll to avoid the kick. His good hand grabbed onto the kitchen counter to hoist himself up but Droog was faster. Before Die was on his feet, Droog slammed the end of his cuestick down onto Die’s hand, causing the Felt member to release a yelp.

“Quiet now, Die. You’ll wake up the whole manor like that.”

Die, still on the floor but now holding both hands to his chest, glared back at Droog with the pathetic fierceness of a wounded animal.

He opened his mouth to call out, but Droog hastily smacked him across the head with his weapon. Die fell flat onto the floor and Droog pressed his foot into the man’s back.

With Die secure underneath his foot, he returned the weapon to his deck. He traded the card in for a nine of diamonds. When he flipped the new card over, a loop of rope took its place.

Droog knelt over the Felt member, who was whimpering about his hands being trapped underneath him. He yanked Die’s arms out from under him and began securing the rope around his wrists.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve done to me or why I’m here but when the others wake up and-”

Droog shushed him and yanked on the rope, making Die wince.

“How are you even here? Why did you take me out of my bed? I knew you were strange but I-”

“Do you want me to hit you?”

Die, barely managing to look over his shoulder, glared at him again.

Droog considered Die’s words for a moment, did he remember nothing? He supposed he rarely remembered any of his own dreams. Perhaps they were the same in that aspect.

“I suppose I’ll ask you again. Do you have a lot of dreams, Die?”

“What do you mean? _Ask me again?_ What does that…”

Droog didn’t pay much attention to Die trailing off. Though he would have liked to pay attention to the horror crossing Die’s features had he not quickly turned his face back to the floor.

“Oh god. Oh my god.”

He wondered how long Die had been suffering from sleepwalking, and by extension, how long Die had known he did.

“I am curious.”

“Don’t talk to me. Oh god.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Droog tried to sound intrigued in his own patronising way.

“Shut up.” Die snapped and uselessly tried to wiggle himself away from Droog. This just made him shift more of his weight onto his foot.

“There were birds, apparently.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“You handled my presence surprisingly well. Do you dream about me often, Die?” There was a disarmingly playful tone present in Droog’s voice that caused Die to shudder.

“I think I’d rather you just shoot me and leave.” He responded through gritted teeth.

Droog took his foot off Die and stepped back, “Well. I’ve got all night to do that.”

He left the room, whistling to the tune of _Two Little Blackbirds_ as he went off to find the rest of his crew.


End file.
